Four Archangels
by Eediva
Summary: Dean’s been followed and protected by the four archangels all his life, he just doesn’t know it. Warnings: Religion, attempted non-con towards a minor.


Title: Four Archangels

Summary: Dean's been followed and protected by the four archangels all his life, he just doesn't know it.

Pairings/Characters: Dean, John, Sam, Castiel. Wee!chesters!

Warnings: Religion, attempted non-con towards a minor.

Disclaimer: I don't own any one. Sam, Dean and John belong to Kripke, while Castiel and the four archangels belong to God.

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_Rise up; this matter is in your hands. We will support you, so take courage and do it."_

_**Ezra 10:4**_

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_Dean met his first angel when Sammy was a year and Dean was almost five. His father was on his first hunt with a man he only knew as Hunter. _

Tears streamed down his face as his father handed Sammy to an old woman, with short greying hair and a plump figure. His tiny fingers clutched onto his father's leather jacket, unwilling to stay with the strangers.

"Uh, Sam sleeps once at ten and then again at about three," his father's uncertain voice said. "Uh, he usually has lunch at noon; he's a good eater and puts himself to sleep. I've got a few diapers in his bag, bottles, and some food jars if he gets hungry. Um, Dean probably wont eat, but I've put some cheerio's in his bag, if all else fails. He loves them. Err; I don't think he will sleep either."

"They will both be fine Mr Winchester," the woman said, her voice cold. "The staff here at St Peter's Childcare Centre is trained professionals. They will take care of your sons."

John nodded, as he pushed his oldest son forward. "Go on Dean, I'll be back this afternoon."

Dean whimpered quietly nodding as the woman took his hand and led him and Sam away from their father. John dropped his head to the ground, miserably before he left the centre and his boys.

Dean stifled a sob as he was lead into a room filled with soft cushions and pillows; babies the same age as Sammy playing with different toys, or crying or resting against the cushions.

The woman placed Sam's bag in a small locker and carried him over to a young woman. She was tall in Dean's view, with shoulder-length black hair, warm brown eyes and a sweet smile.

"Good morning, Hilda," she said, her voice harmonious and sweet. "This must be Sam and Dean."

"Here, take Sam, I will take Dean outside with the rest of the children," Dean's eyes bulked; they were going to take him away from Sammy?! He pulled his hand away from the old hag and ran towards the younger woman, clutching her white flowery dress tightly by the hem, whimpering.

"It seems Dean doesn't want to be separated from his brother," she smiled, kneeling down beside him, Sammy in her strong arms. "It is okay Dean, he will be safe in here while you go and play with your new friends."

Dean shook his head, vigorously, as tears streamed down his face. He gasped as the older woman grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him away forcefully from his baby brother.

"Stop being silly!" The woman snarled, her grip around his shoulder tightening, painfully.

"Hilda, it is okay, I'm not too busy here, let him stay with his brother," the woman spoke softly. Hilda grumbled before she pushed Dean back into the room and stalked off. Dean crumbled to the ground tears streaming down his face, as he looked up at the woman. She placed Sam on the ground in front of a toy xylophone which he instantly began to pound mercilessly while squealing in joy.

The woman knelt beside his baby brother picking up a hammer before she played a beautiful tune on the instrument. Sam clapped his chubby fingers together, babbling with her.

"Your spirit is still so pure for one so tainted," she said, running a hand through Sam's unruly mop of hair. Dean pursed his lips confused when she looked up at him, his green eyes darting to the ground, anxiously. "Come sweetie, don't be frightened."

Dean sniffled as he slowly made his way over to the woman, sitting close to Sam but as far as possible from the woman.

"My name is Gabriel," she introduced herself, smiling a pleasant smile at the children. "Your name is Dean, isn't it?"

He nodded quietly.

"Your father told us you don't talk anymore," Gabriel said softly. Dean didn't make an acknowledgement that he heard. "I'll let you in on a little secret, I don't have a mommy either, just a Daddy and lots and lots of brothers and sisters."

Dean looked up at her, green eyes questioning.

"Your dad told us what happened to your mom," Gabriel smiled. "I understand, losing a loved one is difficult, I lost a very important person several years ago, but my Dad wanted me and my brothers to be brave. I think that maybe your mommy would want the same thing; for you to be brave too. You don't need to be scared though Dean, she will always look after you, as will your angel."

He sniffed, looking up at her with watering eyes. Gabriel smiled at him comfortingly as she stood up.

"Well, Dean, I've got to make some bottles for your brother and the other babies," she said, "Do you think you can help me?"

Dean nodded once, as she stood up. "I will make the bottle and you can give them to the babies. Is that okay?"

He nodded again, following the adult towards a bench covered in Muppets and Ninja Turtle stickers. He watched as she prepared the bottles still talking to him.

"I'll make Ash's bottle first I think," she smiled, "He likes his milk warm, I'll just heat it up in the microwave for a few seconds."

Dean nodded once more, listening intently to the soothing voice.

"Ah, okay, Dean, can you give this bottle to Ash," Gabriel handed the bottle to the child, "He's sitting near the blue cushions, can you find the blue cushions."

Dean nodded, eager to show his cleverness as he skipped over to a small baby, smaller then Sam and handed him his milk. The baby gurgled as he began to suck on the liquid.

"You are so clever Dean, I didn't know you knew the colour blue," Gabriel laughed, "It's my second favourite colour, you know. Okay, can you give this to Katrina; she's the baby in the pram with teddy bears."

Dean ran over to the adult and grabbed the bottle, as Sam crawled over towards Gabriel, screaming.

"A doodoodoodoodoodoodoo!" he scrunched up his chubby fingers into fists and shook them forcefully. Gabriel raised a brow.

"What's the matter, Sam?" Gabriel asked, kneeling beside him.

"DOODOODOODOODOODOO!"

"He wants his bottle," Dean spoke, his voice low and painfully shy as he gazed at the ground.

"Really?" Gabriel smiled; knowingly she made no fuss that the boy finally spoke. "So does Sam like his bottle warm or cold?"

"Doesn't care, he just wants his doodoo," Dean grinned, a smile that light up the room.

"He calls his bottle a doodoo?" Gabriel repeated. Dean nodded, Gabriel chuckled. "That's sweet, well; here you give your Sammy his doodoo."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

John was both pleased and astonished when he returned that evening to pick up his beloved children.

Dean greeted him with a great big "Daddy!" after months of silence. "I did finger painting with Gabriel!"

John felt his chest well up with emotion as he patted his son's back. Sam crawled over to his father gurgling happily as he was picked up and cuddled. "Who's Gabriel?"

"My new friend," Dean said, pulling his bag of his back, to drag out a painting. "Look daddy, do you like it?"

"I love it," John grinned, "I want to meet this teacher of yours."

"She said she had to go home," Dean frowned; she had left a moment before.

"Hmm, well-"

"Mr Winchester, ahh, good, we need to discuss fees," Dean looked up to find the old hag was back again. He closed his mouth and gazed at the ground uncomfortably.

"Yeah, that's fine, uh; can you please give my thanks to Gabriel tomorrow?" John asked, as he followed the woman into the office. She froze at the door, and turned slowly. "What's wrong?"

"We don't have a Gabriel here," Hilda said, unpleasantly. "Dean was with Karen all day today, he wouldn't stay in his own room, which we can not allow here. We can't mix the younger children with the older."

"Oh, uh, okay," John shrugged as he fixed up his fees. "Well, see you Thursday then."

"Good night," she said stiffly. John pulled his son out of the centre gently.

"Deano, I think you misheard your teacher, her name's Karen not Gabriel," John smiled, as Sam rested his head on his father's shoulder.

"Her name was Gabriel daddy, she was an angel," Dean smiled gazing at his painting happily. John smirked, as he looked down at his boy and the painting. A brow rose and he pulled the paper of the child to gaze at it properly. "It's angel wings daddy."

John gazed, befuddled, at the blue wings painted on the paper.

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_"We love Him because He first loved us."_

_1 John 4:9-10_

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_The second time he met an angel he had knocked his head on a step ladder and fallen into a pool. He was thirteen. _

Everything was eerily silent as he stood behind the pool watching his father dive into the water, his lips screaming for his son, but no voice echoed. Sammy was by the side crying for his brother.

Dean swallowed as John finally surfaced, his limp body cradled to his father's chest as he swam to the side and climbed out.

"Hello Dean," the child jumped and turned to face the voice. A young man stood before him, dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt with the letters AC DC written across his chest in gold. Dean stumbled backwards away from the man.

"Get away from me!" Dean hissed, trying to sound strong.

"I'm not here to take you away from your family Dean," he smiled, "Not yet anyway. I am only here to make sure you return to your body safely. Your brother and father still need you."

"Who are you?" Dean asked, as his father pounded on his chest a few feet away.

'_Come on Dean! Breathe Damnit!'_

"My name is Azrael," the man smiled, "I'm the angel of death – no it is okay Dean. I told you, I am not here to take you away from your family. They would be heartbroken. Any one would be; you are such an amazing gift of love and life."

"I'm not-"

"I would love to take you to the heavens, where you belong Dean," Azrael smiled, "But you are needed here, in a world so dark and cold, it needs your light and warmth. Humanity still needs you Dean."

"I'm no one special," Dean shook his head.

"Our Father created each and every human with their own unique light Dean," Azrael smiled, "You have shone brighter then any other in the past 9000 years."

"I- thanks," Dean blushed, when he felt a tug inside him.

"Its time to go back to your family Dean," Azrael smiled. "Do not forget your Father's love for you."

When he awoke his vision of the angel of death dressed in an AC DC shirt was gone, as well as his message. He was greeted by his father's warm, loving eyes, and the spoken thanks to God.

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_Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you."_

_**Deuteronomy 31:6**_

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_The third time Dean ran into an angel, he was fifteen. He was returning from a random bar in the middle of town, pocket filled with money he hustled from some old man. _

Gazing at the ground beneath him he made his way through a dark long alley way. On the other side of the alley was a corner shop and a road away the motel his brother was waiting inside.

Dean kicked at an empty water bottle sending it flying forward as he continued to stroll confidently towards the light at the end of the tunnel. His confidence shook for a moment when a dark figure crept beside him, a deep voice echoing in his ear.

"Where are you going pretty thing?" Dean swallowed and picked up his pace, his fists scrunched up and ready to take a swing if necessary. A hand was placed on his shoulder painfully forcing him to spin around, his fist aiming for the man's jaw. But he found himself pushed against the wall as the figure closed in the space between himself and the boy.

"Get off me," Dean cried, his face scraping against the brick wall distressingly. "Stop it! Get off me!"

"Shut up!" a fist collided with the back of his head as his head collided into the wall again. Dean whimpered as he heard the sounds of a zipper being pulled down.

"No," he whispered, struggling to free his hands from the man's strong grasp. He was pulling at the boy's pants, now, "please, someone help me, dad…"

"Shut uuuhhh!" the man's weight left his body. Dean crumpled to the ground.

"Leave now," a cold voice snarled. "You will not touch him!"

"Son of a-" a fist collided into a face and the sound of a body colliding into a dumpster resounded.

"Do not call my Father that," he growled. Dean looked over his shoulder, still kneeling against the wall, his eyes watering as a strong man, with a stern face, and a muscle-bound body looked down at him. His eyes looked strong and secure. "Are you okay Dean? Come I will take you home."

Dean allowed the man to lift him into his arms protectively. He didn't question the fact that the man knew his name. He was sure he didn't say it allowed.

"My name is Michael," he said, "So long as you are with me, Dean, no harm will ever some to you."

Dean didn't understand what the words the angel spoke had meant. This was unfortunate for him, in the years to come.

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_Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits- who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion_

_**Psalm 103:3-4  
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_The fourth archangel he met was after his death at the hands of Lylith's hell hound. His soul was in a dark part of hell, when Castiel found him, gripped him and raised him from perdition and towards the heavens._

The archangel was a bright and noble being. Castiel carried the soul towards the archangel and in Aramaic he spoke, "Raphael, this is Dean. I have fulfilled my mission, and brought him to you."

"Your mission is yet from over Castiel," Raphael said softly, as he knelt before the human soul, and began to purge it back to a state of sinlessness as God had commanded, "His body is being healed as we speak now and I am healing his mind as best as I can. He is sinless but his mind still will reel with thoughts of his deeds in hell. The rest of the healing is up to him and you."

"I should return his soul to his body?" Castiel asked. Raphael nodded, as he lifted the soul up.

"Where am I?" Dean gasped, his eyes wandering around animatedly.

"At home Dean… Gabriel and Azrael were correct, your light is so pure, even after the depths of hell tried to destroy it," Raphael whispered, "You will bring forth the best of mankind and the downfall of each and every demon, Dean Winchester. My brothers and I will be beside you always."

"Who are you?"

"I am your brother in arms," he smiled, "My name is Raphael. The forth and final archangel you have met. Now, you must return to earth, for with out you, she is doomed. But do not fear; be brave and courageous, for the Lord walks with you always."

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_The End_

The archangels are all seen doing what each one is known for.

Gabriel guides women and children.

Azrael guides the dead.

Michael protects all.

Raphael heals.

Well, that was written in the span of two hours, and I need to sleep.

Peace and Chicken Grease

Afro


End file.
